


The Gold Room

by TammyRenH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Boys Kissing, Case Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:45:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TammyRenH/pseuds/TammyRenH
Summary: Set in season 8, Sam has finished the first trial and Sam and Dean are still on unsteady ground as far as their relationship goes.  To distract them, Sam finds them a hunt which leads them to a man who does not age and the story of a gold room where you can get what you want, if you dare wish for it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my giftee nerdypastrychef – I hope this is somewhere in the range of what you were looking for. I used the Richard Silken bot random quote and did a little twist on the sharing a bed trope. I hope you enjoy the story!  
> Richard Silken bot quote: We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? And you said Kiss me.
> 
> This takes place in season 8 – I’ve played fast and loose with the timeline. So, in this version of events, Sam and Dean reconciled in November, Sam completed the first trial the beginning of December, this takes place a few days before Christmas.

_**Dean** _

“So, I think I found us a case.” 

Dean looked up from the book he had been reading, well reading might be too ambitious a word for what he had actually been doing which was spending the last fifteen minutes scanning the same page over and over again while his eyes restlessly darted over to where Sam sat hunched over his laptop.

Dean hated the hesitancy in Sam’s voice.  Dean hated the hesitancy in their relationship. 

He put his book down and walked over to where Sam sat.  “Yeah?”  He asked, in a tone he hoped that sounded encouraging.

Getting their relationship back on an even keel was the hardest thing he had ever attempted, they had ever attempted.  He’d rather fight a thousand monsters than struggle through this fog that surrounded them, making every conversation a struggle, causing their bond to seem fragile and brittle, ready to fly apart at the first harsh wind.

“Yeah, so…”  Sam cleared his throat, nervous energy clearly strumming through him.  Dean’s fingers itched to rub Sam’s shoulders, to soothe and comfort his brother, but he kept them still.  “They arrested a man in the Ozarks for cruelty to animals.  Found a mound of animal bones near his cabin in the woods where he lived, about three feet of nothing but little bones, probably rabbits or cats or maybe small dogs.”

Dean frowned and moved a bit away from Sam, strumming his itchy fingers across the slightly rough texture of the table.  “Okay, he’s a douche who deserves to be locked up, but I don’t see how this is our thing.”

He flinched after he said it, instantly worried that Sam would feel that this was yet another dig, that he was still looking for ways to criticize every movement Sam made.

It still hurt.  It still hurt like hell, but Dean would never admit it, not to Sam or anyone.  And he was doing his best to not let his hurt color his newly reformed relationship with Sam.  He needed Sam by his side, in his life, more than he needed to hurt about Amelia. 

They say time heals all wounds.  Dean highly doubted that.  But maybe enough time would heal what was broken between him and Sam. He needed it to.  He needed his brother back, fully and completely. 

God, when had he turned into a complete and utter sap?

Sam looked up at Dean, his ever-changing eyes currently a lighter version of Dean’s own. “I haven’t finished.  When they asked for his name, he told him it was Daniel Bagans, but he couldn’t give them a social security number, had no identification on him at all.  He’s currently sitting in the local jail as a John Doe.”

“How do you even find this stuff?”  Dean asked, taking the seat next to Sam, his itchy fingers still wanting to touch Sam.  It was a feeling he was used to fighting, but it had become more intense since their relationship had almost shattered.  Like he needed physical proof Sam was beside him.  Like he needed to press his fingers into every inch of Sam to know he was real. 

“I found this because I follow a twitter account that posts weird or unusual stories.” Sam replied. Dean barely refrained from rolling his eyes. There was being a geek and then there was – well being Sam.  “Anyway, the town is looking for anyone that can identify the guy, but I got to thinking maybe he’s exactly who he said he was.  So, I’ve been scouring the online archives of the local paper <i> The Ashford Daily </i>.  I did a search on his last name and came up with this.”

Sam turned the laptop around so that Dean could see it.  The date on the front page of the scanned newspaper was November 18th, 1944.   There was a picture of a man, woman and a teenaged boy of around 16 or so judging by his youthful appearance and the haughty bored look he was giving the camera.  His face was splotched with dark spots, probably some type of scars but it was hard to tell in the black and white photo.  The family was standing in front of a rather huge pumpkin with a blue ribbon attached to it. 

“Do you see the names?”

“Richard and Jenny Bagans, and their son Daniel won first prize at the – “

Dean turned the laptop back over to Sam.  He was trying very hard to keep the irritation out of his voice, but he was beginning to think that Sam was so desperate for a case, so they wouldn’t just sit around, awkwardly pretending that they weren’t sneaking glances at each other that he was making mountains out of empty ant hills. “So, he’s old and his family had a weird thing about pumpkins – “

“Except he’s not.”  Sam did his clickety-click thing on the laptop and turned it again toward Dean.  The picture on the screen was of a man around Sam’s age, glaring at the camera, his mouth in a straight line, his hair even longer than Sam’s and three times as wild.  His face was littered with scars, which contributed to his wild, mountain man appearance.  “His name pops up a few times in articles after this one.  His parents were killed in a fire four years later, then he had a fiancé that drowned, and then – nothing until now.”

“Are we sure it’s the same guy?”  Dean asked, but mentally he was going over what was in his duffle bag, what he would need to grab.  “I mean, this guy could be our guy’s grandfather or something.”

“It’s the same guy.  He’s got the same pockmarks on his face in his picture with his parents, including the two unfortunate ones on his nose.  Probably from chicken pox.  He looks exactly the same, just a bit older.  It’s him Dean.”

Sam turned those doe-like eyes to Dean and really who was Dean to say no to him?  Plus, he could use a break from sitting around, trying not to look at Sam and trying hard to come up with conversation topics that sounded casual. “Well, we’ve gone further on less.  Let’s go check it out.”

Sam was already shutting the laptop, standing up.  He smiled at Dean, and for one stupid second Dean’s heart skipped beating cause it was the first genuine smile Sam had sent his way since – well in a long time.  “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

It was a long trip, with a layover in a no-name hotel in a no-name town where Sam barely spoke to Dean, spending most of his time searching for more information on the illusive Daniel Bagans.  Dean spent most of his time flipping endlessly through channels on the crappy tv set until he finally landed on the best Christmas movie ever, _Die Hard_.  For a hot moment, he thought about asking Sam to watch it with him, but Sam was knee deep into whatever on his laptop, so Dean watched the movie with the sound turned way down.  The movie wasn’t near as much fun as he remembered it being.

The next day, after a “continental” breakfast that was composed of stale toast, staler cereal and some iffy bacon, which Dean ate anyway cause hell, why not, they were on the road again.  Sam spent his time staring out of the passenger window, Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

When the silence became too much Dean cleared his throat, Sam visibly startled, and quickly turned his head to Dean.

Well now that he had his attention –

Dean’s mind whirled.  When did talking to his brother become so damn hard?

“How you feeling, since the – “Dean cleared his throat again.  Maybe he needed water.  Or beer.  Or a lobotomy.  “You know, the hellhound and everything.”

“Fine.”  Sam replied, because of course he did, Dean hadn’t expected him to say anything else. “Fine.”  Sam repeated, as if to make sure Dean heard and understood.

“Good.”  Dean replied.  He wished he believed it.  Sam had looked tired since the hellhound, since taking on the tasks that really should have been Dean’s burden to bear.  He wished it had been him, he wished he was doing this for Sam.  Instead Sam had completed the first one, was insisting on completing all of them, and he already looked tired and he was edgy, and not quite himself.  But maybe that was because Dean had been such an asshole to him, maybe that had nothing to do with the trials.

The silence stretched between them.

This time it was Sam that spoke. “It’s pretty here.”  Sam indicated the scenery.  There were countless trees, mostly bare but a few evergreens littered the side of the highway.  Hills, grass, every once in a while there was a glimpse of water – a pond or a lake.   

Sam was looking back at him, one of those half-smiles of his on his face, the rising sun’s reflection sparking in Sam’s eyes, which were a cornflower blue today.  “Yeah,” Dean answered, and if he didn’t mean the scenery at all – well that was just something else that nobody never needs know.  “Yeah it is.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_Sam_ **

“Okay, but it’s December.  It really shouldn’t be this hot.”  He knew he was whining, but he didn’t care.  His red and green plaid shirt was soaked through underneath his ill-advised green leather jacket and he was pretty sure that there was enough sweat on him to fill a gallon bucket.

Beside him, looking impossibly cool and collected and so much like the Dean Sam had known before everything went to hell – or rather since Dean went to purgatory – Dean shrugged.  “The south dude.” He said, as if that explained everything.  Which Sam guessed it did.

They had to park Baby about two miles down the steep incline that was supposed to pass as the path to Daniel’s cabin.  The way was all up, up, up, and the trail was treacherous, full of rocks and stumps and other fun surprises.

Sam spent half of his time watching his feet, making sure he didn’t trip over anything and the other one trying to gauge Dean’s mood.  Dean was mostly silent, a bit tense, his eyes always looking up the path they were going.  Dean didn’t need to look at his feet to avoid the obstacles in his path, but then he had never been as clumsy as Sam was.

Sam stumbled on a stump that he was too busy trying to read the expression on Dean’s face to notice, as if the universe was agreeing with him about the clumsy part.  “Careful.”  Dean grabbed his arm, steadying him. 

Sam regained his balance.  “Sorry I – “

He wasn’t sure what he meant to say.  After a few seconds of that awkward silence that Sam had grown to hate, Dean removed his hand from Sam’s arm. “Just be careful.”  Dean mumbled, not looking Sam in the eye.

Sam nodded, he wasn’t sure if Dean saw it or not, but Dean was already walking again, leaving Sam to trail a few steps behind his brother.

His brother that he had missed so, his brother whose absence had caused him to ache so deeply it created an abscess, his brother that was right in front of him, but so damn far away that Sam feared he would never reach him.

And it was all his fault.

Sam forced his mind away from that train of thought – cause he had wasted enough time in the endless circle of recrimination.  Dean had forgiven him – or so he said – and Sam would make it up to him, somehow.

Sam felt heat building underneath his skin, the same that he had been feeling off and on since he killed that hellhound. He wondered if that was why he felt so hot but tucked that thought away as well.

Best to focus on the here and now.  This case.  And fixing things with Dean.

Dean climbed over the top of the hill and gave a low whistle.  “I think this is it.”

A few steps more, and Sam was beside him.  In front of them was a cabin, if one could be so generous as to call it that.  Four walls, a roof of some sort of thatch maybe, that clearly did nothing to keep the elements out.  The cabin was leaning slightly to the left, there were holes in the walls where time and little forest creatures had worn the wood away.  There may have once been glass in the windows, but not anymore.  It looked forsaken, inhabitable. 

Beside the cabin was a huge hole, which once had been filled with the carcasses of small animals, according to newspaper and police reports.  The ground there was bare, no grass, no leaves, nothing.  

“Some sort of ritual maybe?”  Sam asked, walking closer to the hole.  Even though they had excavated most of the site, Sam could still see a few small bits of bones scattered here and there.  The carcasses had run from recently deceased animals to bones long ago turned mostly to dust.  It was as if the pile had been cultivated for years.

Dean was almost to the cabin door when he pulled his gun, his head tilted toward Sam indicating he had heard something inside.  Sam pulled his gun out too, and quickly, quietly made his way to the other side of the cabin door.

Dean pulled the door open in one quick, powerful movement and stepped inside, Sam right on his heels.

If the outside of the cabin was a mess, the inside was a disaster.  The house reminded Sam of the hoarders show he had caught glimpses of sometimes when Dean was clicking through the channels.  There were piles of books, newspapers, and other debris everywhere he looked.  The smell was incredible, worst that Sam could remember in a long time.

It was a one room cabin, with no visible place to sleep and no apparent facilities or running water.

 In front of Dean, the mound of newspapers moved and they both trained their guns toward the floor.

Out popped a kitten, looking half-starved and more than a little angry.

“Fuck.”  Dean breathed and then took one more look around before lowering his gun.  “Guess he didn’t get around to killing this one yet.”

Sam reached down to pet the poor creature and got a long scratch mark on his hand for his trouble.  Yeah, he probably should have seen that coming.  He stood up quickly while Dean chuckled behind him, where he was carefully scouring the pile nearest to the door.  “Watch it Sammy, you might get yourself a bad case of cat-scratch fever.”

  
“Funny.”  Sam replied, but turned his head so that Dean wouldn’t see his smile.  He had missed Dean teasing him, and just that one sentence caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to form in the pit of Sam’s stomach.  And if Sam was flushing a bit, well he’d been hot now for hours so – nothing weird going on there.  At all.

As far as Sam could gather, the man liked to read.  The piles of newspapers and books covered much of the cabin.  There was surprisingly little actual trash, other than the droppings that Sam felt sure were left by the kitten that was still crouching where Sam left him, ready to attack if either hunter got too close.

Sam left Dean to scan the contents of the house and went back outside.  That man might read in the cabin, but there was too much junk in there for it to be his sleeping quarters.

Behind the cabin Sam found a well, a couple of empty bowls, one he filled with water, and a small patch of earth that apparently was a garden in the summer.  He found a small shack even further back, filled with dried meat, vegetables, even a jar of blackberries.  There was also cat food, one of the few store-bought items Sam had seen, a giant bag with maybe a quarter left in it.  That kitten hadn’t been alive that long, Daniel must have been feeding other cats before him.

Why would he feed them just to kill them?  Unless it was part of a ritual?

“There are newspapers in there older than we are.”

Sam made a sound that was definitely not a screech and turned around to face his brother When the hell had he become so damn jumpy?

Dean smirked at him and the twist in Sam’s stomach was back.  “You jumped as high as a cat, maybe I wasn’t wrong about the cat-scratch fever thing.”

“Shut up.”  Sam mumbled, wondering if anyone had ever spontaneously combusted from their checks flaming too hot.  “I think he might have slept in here,” Sam motioned toward a bedroll in the ground of the shack.  Next to the cabin, the shack was almost clean.

“So, we have a guy that hibernates in the middle of nowhere, takes cares of cats until he decides to kill them, and should be decades older than he is.  Witch?  Deal with a demon?”

“I don’t see anything that suggest witch to me.” Sam said, eyes roaming over the contents of the shelves in front of him.  “And a demon deal, he would have had to pay up by now.”

Dean just looked at him for a moment, and Sam nervously ran his hand through his hair.  Stupid nervous tic.  He put his hand back by his side as Dean squared his shoulders.

“I think it’s time we had a chat with Danny boy, find out who-or what- he is.”

“Yeah,” Sam reached for the cat food, planning to fill the bowl before he left, and he would tell animal control about the holy terror kitten in the cabin once they got back into town.  “Sounds like a plan.”

It was almost three hours later that they sat in an interrogation room, waiting for the guards to bring back Daniel.  They had walked back to the car, Dean had drove back into town, and they had changed into their FBI outfits.  It was cooler now, but Sam could still feel sweat gather underneath his collar.   He also still felt itchy, as if a few fire ants had taken residence underneath his skin.  Dean raised his eyebrow in question as Sam squirmed in his seat.  Sam forced himself to sit still, instead finding himself focused on Dean’s hands as they thrummed out the beat to some random classic rock song.  He remembered a time when those hands had held him when he was small, remembered them stroking his hair when he cried about having to leave his friends behind yet again, remembered waking up from a dream of those hands touching his –

Sam startled as the door opened.  Dean gave a half chortle beside him, clearly amused about how twitchy Sam had become lately.

Daniel was placed in the chair across the table from them, handcuffs still covering his wrists.  The officer nodded toward Sam and Dean and quietly left the room.  Sam was acutely aware of the camera in the corner of the room as the man glared at first him, then Dean.

Dean spoke first.  “My name is Agent Morrison, this is Agent Harri – “

“I don’t care who you are.”  Daniel interrupted, still glaring at one of them and then the other.  “I know I have rights.  I know I don’t have to talk to either one of you if I don’t want to and I don’t want to.”

“You are right.”  Sam carefully said to him as Daniel turned those baleful eyes to him.  “I was just wondering.”  Sam said evenly as Daniel continued to bore holes through him with his eyes. “If you could explain this.”

Sam turned his phone around so that Daniel could see the newspaper clipping featured there.  Daniel visibly blanched, and his hands began to shake a bit in the handcuffs.  After opening his mouth a few times without anything coming out, Daniel pushed the phone back toward Sam.  “Grandfather.”

Dean gave a bark of a laugh.  “I don’t think so, unless dear granddaddy left you his nose in the will,” Dean said indicating the spots of Daniel’s nose.  They stood out, even against his bronze, weathered skin.  “So, try again.  And we’d like the truth this time.”

Daniel’s hands were still shaking, but he was firm as he shook his head no.  Dean pushed over the coke he had bought from the soda machine out front.  “Maybe this will loosen you up.”  He said.

With his hands bound, and fine tremors coursing through them, it took Daniel a few tense seconds to pick up the coke and bring it to his lips.  Sam and Dean watched as he drank the holy water laced coke without any trouble.

“Only good thing about civilization.”  Daniel said, after a few more sips of the coke.  He sounded less hostile, more resigned. “Used to sneak into town sometimes, get me one of these out of the machines if I found enough change.”

“How’d you get the cat food?”  Sam asked.

Daniel flinched at that but stared at the coke can as if held the mysteries of the world and said nothing.

“Look, we don’t give two fucks about stolen cat food.”  Dean said, leaning in closer to Daniel.  “But what we do care about is you.  So, you tell us your secret to longevity and we don’t – “

Sam kicked Dean under the table, eyes motioning toward the camera.  “Maybe Daniel would just like to tell us a story, I bet he’s read a lot of stories, we saw all those books you have. Some of them were very old.”

“Look I did nothing wrong.”  Daniel said, suddenly eager to talk for some reason. Sam suspected that Dean had made some sort of gesture beside him, but he was probably better off not knowing for sure.  “I didn’t kill those cats, they were my friends.  My only friends.  They just died, that’s all.  Age, sometimes a predator would – but not me, I never killed nothing in my life, except maybe a bug or two.”

“Okay.”  Sam said, deliberately using his most reassuring voice.  “So, let’s say you are just a nice man who doesn’t like people and loves little furry animals with ridiculously sharp claws.  I still think you have a very interesting story you should share with us.”  Sam tapped the phone.

Daniel looked undecided.  “it’s pretty weird, you won’t believe me.”

“Harrison and I.”  Dean said from beside him.  Somehow their chairs had gotten closer together and Sam could feel Dean’s leg pressing against his.  It took everything he had not to press back, but even that much of a touch was more than they had shared since– it felt good.  It felt comforting.  It took Sam a moment to refocus on what Dean was saying.  “Right Harrison?”

Sam supposed there had been a sentence in there somewhere about how they liked weird things.  He looked into Dean’s ridiculously beautiful eyes with those stupid lashes and nodded his head, his throat suddenly too dry to force out a yes.

Daniel sighed, and then began, still sipping at his coke now and then.  His voice was low, and Sam had to lean in to hear every word.

“So, a long time ago” the words ‘in a galaxy far far away’ floated in Sam’s brain then evaporated. “There was a boy.  He had two parents that loved him.  He lived in a nice town.  His dad owned a nice farm.  And then there was a fire and – “

“It’s okay to skip ahead.”  Sam softly informed him. “What happened next in the story?”

“The boy was sad for a while, and he was lonely, and he thought a lot about his parents, how they were there one second and how they were dead the next and – and how scary that was and how – how – anyway. The boy became a man and he met a nice girl, schoolteacher actually, and for some ridiculous reason she loved this boy back and they were all set to get married and – she was swimming in the lake with a bunch of friends and the current – and – “

“Okay, so this guy had really bad luck.”  Dean interjected.  “So, did this guy meet a nice dem – nice guy who maybe had a nice deal for him?”

“I don’t know what you are– there was no deal.” For the first time since he began speaking Daniel lifted up his eyes.  “There was a wish.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then looked back to Daniel.  “And who granted this wish?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know his – I’ve been trying to find him for years.  I mean that boy – he’s been.  I was up at the lake, camping out by myself, thinking how much I missed my girl and wishing I was brave enough to join her – I mean he was, that boy.  And then I-he must have fallen asleep because when he awoke, he was in this golden room – I mean everything was gold, the walls, the floors, everything.  Even the man was golden, his skin was – like a golden brown, not like he was made of gold.  And he said he – he said he knew what people wanted, what their biggest wish was and if I – I had to choose if I wanted my wish, if I-I mean he- wanted his wish to come true, he had to say it out loud.  And he was so scared – dying scared him so much so he – “

“Wished to live forever.”  Sam finished for him.

Daniel nodded. “Except, I want to take it back.  I do.  Every night I take my bedroll and I go sleep by that lake cause I – the boy – he can’t live where there are people cause he- well he can’t, he doesn’t age and he is so tired of being alone and the cats – they all die, every single one of them and – every night he sleeps there, but the gold room never comes back.”

The door opened, and the guard came back in. “Times up boys.  You’re not getting anything but nonsense from him by the sounds of it anyway   Just more crazy talk, can’t be doing your investigation any good.”

“It’s okay.  He’s not who we thought he was anyway.”  Sam reached out and touched Daniel’s arm.  “Thanks for the story, maybe we can find someone who can help this guy”

Daniel nodded, but his eyes looked resigned and not hopeful at all as he was led away. 

“So,” Dean said as he stood up.  “Camping?”

“At least it’s warm.”  Sam grumbled, not looking forward to sleeping on the hard ground.

Five minutes later they walked outside, where the first snowflakes were falling.

Sam looked up at the sky and shivered in the suddenly bitterly cold air.  He turned to Dean.  “What the hell?”

“The south dude.”  Dean repeated with a shrug and there were a few snowflakes that had been caught on his eyelashes and –

Sam was lost.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sam** _

“So just one?”  Dean asked the man behind the counter for the second time.

They were in the one sporting good store in town.  Most of the items on the shelf looked like they had been there for decades.  Sam was pretty sure the man hadn’t cleaned the place since his wife died in 05 (there was a whole wall dedicated to her memory, including her obituary that was ensconced in a silver frame). The spiders scattered around the store looked as if they had called the place home for generations.  There was a Charlie-brownish type Christmas tree in the corner, some dusty bulbs dotted it and a star haphazardly sat on top of it.  The whole place just made Sam feel sad, and he wanted out of here as quickly as possible.

“Just the one you got in your hand there mister.”  The man answered, same as before.  “Don’t many people camp this time of the year.  Except maybe Pastor John and his son Jimmy, but there are folks that believe they are both a bit touched in the head, at least ever since Jimmy’s Mom went off and left them.”

The man who Sam assumed to be Tucker of Tucker’s Sporting Goods looked like he was willing to gossip for hours.  Dean was still looking at the sleeping bag like it might bite him.

The sleeping bag would have to do, and he nudged Dean so he would just pay for the damn thing. They had ditched their camping gear, such as it was, after they found the bunker, way too used to hotel rooms, as crappy as soon of them were, to want to camp out in the wild.  For this hunt, they didn’t want to sleep in a tent, as they wanted the creature – whatever it was -to easily locate them, or for them to easily locate it.   So, sleeping bag it would have to be.  And if there was only one, at least it was a double.  And Dean could stop looking like this was the worst thing that had ever happened to him any moment now.  If Sam could suck it up and sleep beside Dean in that stupid sleeping bag, Dean could damn well do the same.

Sam’s mild irritation carried him through the drive back up the mountain and through the hike to the lake and somewhere along that path, chilled by the cold and stumbling in the dark, Sam’s mood turned down right pissy.

Dean had barely talked to him during the whole hike.  He just had insisted on carrying the sleeping bag along with his other gear and had walked a few feet in front of Sam the whole way, occasionally pushing back limbs and shoving rocks away with his foot as if Sam was an incompetent that couldn’t handle any of that on his own.

Sam dropped his backpack and studied the lake in front of them.

There was a sliver of a moon, just enough to lightly caress the dark, shimmering water on the lake.  It wasn’t a big lake, maybe two or three miles wide, a mile or so across.  Thankfully, there was no one else there.  Sam shivered as he looked into the inky darkness surrounding them and told himself it was from the cold.

“The sooner we get settled into this sleeping bag, the sooner the monster or whatever the hell it is, makes an appearance.”  Dean threw Sam a couple of granola bars.  “Eat and then we crash.”

Stupid bossy jerk.

Sam sat down by the lake and ate, his back deliberately to Dean and tried not to think about sharing such an intimate space as a sleeping bag with his brother.

Years ago, they had always slept in the same bed.  But as Dean got older, he started insisting he needed his own space, which meant Sam’s bed became cold and lonely.  At first they slept in the same room, in different beds.  But as time marched on, Dean began sleeping in his own room. 

Then there had been that haunt in a town in rural Illinois, Wildwood or Walcott or something like that.  The house that their Dad had rented for the month had been a tiny, two-bedroom house that had once been a garage.  Dean had been forced to share a bedroom with Sam, and Sam had barely been able to contain his happiness about having his brother so close again.  It had been January or February, cold anyway, colder than it was here.  There was four feet of snow on the ground and Dad was a week into his two-and-a-half week hunting trip when the power had gone off.

At first they slept in their separate twin beds, cold and miserable, neither able to sleep.  Blankets had never been in abundant supply, and the thin ones they were trying to snuggle under were not providing any real warmth.  It was Dean, grumpy and cursing, who had climbed out of his bed and into Sam’s

Sam had been about fifteen then, just hitting his major growth spurt. It was a struggle for them to fit in that twin bed, and even more of a struggle to find a comfortable position that didn’t involve one of them smothering the other.  But now they had 2 blankets to cover them.  And they could keep each other warm.

It had been a long time since they had slept in the same space together by then and for a bit Sam just snuggled into his brother, appreciating his warmth and the familiar way Dean’s fingers were absently stroking his hair and he felt Dean snuggle closer.

And then he realized he was getting too warm.

And something changed within Sam, something that started with that moment and still shamefully lived within him now.  Something changed in the way he saw Dean.  Something changed in the way he saw himself. He had always known he was different, a freak – but that moment, when he realized his brother was making him feel things that –

He had made an excuse, gotten out of bed and refused -despite Dean’s pleas and then orders- to get back in.

That moment had irrevocably changed their relationship.  Where once Sam had touched Dean frequently and easily, he kept his hands to himself. Where once he embraced Dean after every hunt, he kept his distance.   He could tell Dean was baffled and maybe a bit hurt by the change in Sam, but Dean ultimately chucked it up to hormones and Sam kept that careful wall around himself until he went to Stanford.

Afterwards, after Jessica, it was easier.  Their relationship had almost gone back to the way it was before Sam had gone wrong, but then – the demon blood and hell and the Leviathans and purgatory and the rift that had grown between them and –

Maybe it was the absence, maybe if was how close he had come to losing Dean forever and maybe it was the overriding guilt that colored their relationship and every word spoken between them, but Sam felt this – want – this need – and now he was about to share a cramped space with Dean again.

“Earth to Sam.” 

Sam jolted, Dean snickered, and the world turned back right upside again.

“Hey, if we are going to try to capture this thing – “

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam climbed awkwardly to his feet, not looking his brother in the eye.  Dean sighed and made his way back to the sleeping bag.

Sam put his empty wrappers in his backpack.  They weren’t going to start a fire, as they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves from the authorities and Sam could feel the bitterly cold air bite through his jacket. At least the snow flurries had stopped.  It was time to get in that sleeping bag with Dean.

“Fuck, it’s cold.”  Dean complained as he shrugged off his jacket, but otherwise got into the sleeping bag fully dressed, including boots.  He scooted over to the far side and pulled it open.

“I am not being the small spoon.”  Sam complained. “I mean look at me.”

“Sucks for you.”  Dean replied, with a shrug.  “But I guess you’ll just have to deal with it brother of mine cause I’m not moving.”

“Ass.”  Sam murmured, purposely loud enough for Dean to hear and got into the bag.  “So now what?”  Sam asked, as he struggled to make himself comfortable while being sure that as little of his body as possible touched as little of Dean as possible.  Not exactly an easy task with two men over six feet tall.

“Well, the man said the thing came when he was miserable, so I guess we could try that.”

“Let’s see.”  Sam wasn’t even trying to hide the irritation in his voice, he could be the bratty brother when he wanted to be.  “I’m cold, I’m still hungry, I am stuck being the little spoon in a sleeping bag that’s barely big enough for me, and you are being insufferable.  I think I have miserable covered.”

“Good then.  You go on being prissy and I’ll wait for the monster to show up.”  Dean sounded really ticked.  Sam thought about turning over to look at him, but that would involve a lot of touching while moving around.  So, he stayed put.

Even though they were barely touching, he could feel Dean at his back.  Dean’s legs moved restlessly and kept brushing against his, and Sam was torn between the need to press his entire body against Dean and pretend it was for warmth, and the need to get the hell out of dodge, just like he had done so many years ago in a flurry of self-preservation.

He did neither. They had a hunt to do.  So, he stayed perfectly still and stared into the darkness.

“Any guesses as to what this is?”  Dean asked, in a fairly obvious attempt to smooth things over. 

“Probably not a genie, cause he didn’t keep him, he just granted his wish and set him free.  A witch would want something in return, in fact just about everything I could think of would – all the mythical things that grant wishes – troll, fairies. I mean, the wish went wrong and maybe the creature got something out of that – but that’s a long con type of payout and most monsters don’t have the patience for that.”

“Huh.”  Dean replied.  “So, do you have a wish in mind, in case we meet this monster?”  Dean was blowing into Sam’s hair, it took Sam longer than it should have to realize Dean was doing it to mess with him.

“A less annoying brother.”  Sam replied, scooting a tiny bit forward which was all the room he had to maneuver.

Dean laughed behind him.  “Good luck with that.”

They slipped into silence again, but it was the okay kind of silence, and Sam found himself relaxing slightly.  He could feel Dean’s tentative fingers in his hair, stroking lightly and he let himself just live in that moment, live with the feeling of the light touches, of the closeness he thought he had lost forever.

Sam let his mind drift for a few moments, but then realized that the shivering he had been doing since he had arrived at the lake was turning into full blown shakes.

Dean gave a patent Dean-sigh behind him, exasperated and long-suffering. “Just scoot back here, we aren’t going to be able to kill anything if you lose limbs to frost bite.”

“It’s not that cold.”  Sam insisted.  It would have come out more believable if his teeth weren’t shattering.

“Damn it Sam just- “

Dean scooted up so that his front was pressed against Sam’s back, and Dean’s hand went around his waist.  Sam could feel how cold Dean’s fingers were, even through his shirt, and he was about to protest when Dean’s body heat began shifting into him.

It was all Sam could do to be still, to not snuggle back into Dean, to not cover Dean’s hand with his own, to not let himself want this, and so much more.

Dean’s hands were inside his shirt now, lightly touching his skin, setting off goosebumps wherever his fingers touched.  And Sam could let himself dream, just for this once, that this wasn’t an absent-minded search for warmth on Dean’s part.  That this was Dean, touching him because Dean wanted to touch him and for thirty seconds, because he counted them out, he let himself be Dean’s in every way he had always been afraid to imagine himself to be.  He was Dean’s and he was safe and he was warm and he was loved and then he opened his eyes –

And he was in a gold room


	4. Chapter 4

_**Dean** _

 Dean pushed himself up a bit in the sleeping bag so that his head was even with Sam’s, and it still was a bit annoying that he had to do that to be even with his little brother, but he pushed that thought away, cause Sam seemed to be annoyed enough for the both of them.

Sam was shivering in front of him, fine little tremors that shook his entire body.  Sam had folded into himself as much as he could, the same way he did when he slumped his shoulders and tried to seem less threatening, less looming, less…

Dean wanted to push his entire body against Sam’s but the memory of that long-ago night in the bed, when he dared, when he dared and it freaked Sam out so bad Sam couldn’t look at him for days but his hands wanted so badly, and so Dean let them reach up, let them stroke Sam’s hair and it was almost enough.

But then Sam’s fine tremors turned into full-blown shakes and really, enough is enough.  It took a bit of convincing, of course it did because Sam was as stubborn as he was long, but Dean finally pressed his front against Sam’s back and the feel of those taut hard muscles –

And if he died tonight, if this -whatever this was – was the thing that ended him, at least he had this moment. He had Sam in his arms, he had his body wrapped around Sam’s and in that moment, it was enough.

He let his eyes drift shut and he pressed harder into Sam and his hands dared find their way under Sam’s shirt and Sam was so cold wherever they touched and then he heard Sam gasp, felt him tense and he opened his eyes and –

The gold room.

Dean was on his feet instantly, on high alert.

The sleeping bag was gone.  And fucking hell, so were all the weapons, those that Dean had stored in the sleeping bag, even the gun that he had stuck in the back of his pants, and he knew without feeling that the knife in his boots was gone too.  Behind him he sensed Sam was checking for his weapons.

“Sorry sugars, but they wouldn’t have done you any good anyway.”

Where seconds before there had been blank space, there was now a man standing in front of them, on a riser maybe two feet off the ground.

Dean took a few steps so that he was in front of Sam.  The creature – whatever it was – smiled more widely.

“And so you are the fabled Winchester brothers.”  The man said, giving a weird sort of half bow, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Dean snorted, but behind him Sam spoke. “Pleasure is all ours I am sure.  And you might be -?”

“I might be many things.”  He stepped down from the riser and Dean tensed, resisting the urge to push Sam behind him which would be both futile and would tick Sam the hell off.

As the man stepped toward them, Dean took in his surroundings.  Everything in the room was gold, the floor, the walls, the riser, there were shapes on the wall that Dean supposed were some sort of decorations in various hues of gold.

Daniel was right about the man, he was gold too – his skin was a golden brown, and his eyes were yellow-gold.  His hair was black, literally the only ungold thing in the room besides Dean and Sam.  He was naked except for a very small piece of cloth at his waist that was barely covering his junk.  The color was, of course, gold.

Dean took all that in in the few seconds it took the man to reach them.  He was looking for a weapon, but there was none to be found.

Of course not, it wasn’t like the famous Winchester luck was going to choose this moment to make a turn for the better.

“My name is Perseus.”  He held out his hand, but Dean glared at him as he folded his arms against his chest.  From behind him, Sam apparently did not offer his hand out either.  The man sighed and ran his hand through his hair instead, a move that unsettlingly reminded Dean of Sam.  “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

Dean shrugged, but he could almost hear Sam’s gears churning behind him.

“Greek?”  Sam asked.

Perseus looked pleased.

Dean was definitely not pleased.  “Not another God.”  He groaned. “How many of you fuckers are there anyway?”

“You flatter me dumpling. Not a God no, but I am the next best thing.  I’m like a demi-fucker I guess.” Perseus said with a grin.

“Demigod,” Sam the geek supplied.  “If I remember my ancient history correctly, son of Zeus and – a mortal princess I think?”

“Give the beautiful boy a star of gold.  Yes, my mother was Danae, according to myth my father impregnated her by pretending to be a golden shower.  I think he used his decidedly not golden dick, but who knows.”

“As fascinating as all this is, “Dean interjected, with a tone he sure as hell hoped showed he meant the opposite.  “We are here to – “

“Yes, kill me.  I know. How unimaginative of you.”  Perseus didn’t seem the least big shaken, instead he turned his back on them, and that stupid cloth apparently wasn’t mean to cover his back side cause his ass was on full display, and he actually jiggled it as he made his way back to his riser and turned and sat cross-legged facing them.  If Sam and Dean were situated any lower, they would be able to see everything that cloth was doing so little to hide.  Dean fought the instinct to cover Sam’s eyes, but barely.

“Just so you are aware, even if you boys had your weapons, you couldn’t kill me.  I don’t have an Achille’s heel, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell you two what it is, even if you batted your pretty eyes and whispered ‘please’.  But today is your lucky day boys, because I am willing to give you what you want. For a price.”

“What we want is for you to go away and never show your ugly mug anywhere near here again.”  Dean added.

In truth the man wasn’t ugly at all, in truth he was about as beautiful as a person could be. Not as beautiful as Sam of course, but still – Dean could imagine all the women and men swooning all over this guy, probably had been doing so for centuries.  No wonder the guy’s head was so big and he flirted as easily as he breathed.

“And that is the exact deal I am proposing. I go away, and in your lifetime I never step foot on Earth again.”  The demigod told them, still sitting cross-legged in front of them.  “But first dear boy, I need a wish from you.”

There was a long stunned silence while Dean tried to re-start his suddenly clogged brain.

“You are willing to go away forever, just like that?”  Sam asked.

“As it so happens, my bags, as it were, are already packed. I planned to use this room just once more, to give someone something they really want, and leave.”   Perseus replied. “I had someone in mind, but I could be persuaded to give my final gift to you.”

“I wish you were fucking dead.”  Dean said, finding his voice.  “You and all the gods and demi-semi-whatever gods.”

“Yeah, that’s not your real wish.”  Perseus remain calm, collected and irritatingly not irritated by Dean.  “And it’s not your wish I want gorgeous, but that adorable brother of yours.”

“Me?”  Sam’s voice was dangerously closed to squeaking and Dean turned to look at him.  Sam was almost white.  “Why?”

“You know why.”  Perseus replied.  He winked at Sam.  Sam seemed to turn even whiter. “And I’ll know if you lie and if you lie, the deal is off the table. Every hero knows there is a cost to every victory, this is the price of this one.”

Sam’s eyes darted to Dean and Dean could read panic in them, and really – why would Sam be panicking about a wish?  Unless it was bad, unless it was something about him, something about the way he treated Sam after purgatory.  Dean could feel his own heart rate ratchet up.

“If I do this, will you set Daniel free?”  Sam asked, he took a few steps closer so he was even with Dean, which Dean didn’t like a bit cause he was no longer a buffer between Sam and danger but he compensated by pressing his shoulder against Sam’s arm.  Sam, rather to Dean’s surprise, didn’t move away.

“Only because you plead so prettily.  Daniel will grow old and he will die, this very night in fact, but for that to happen, you have to tell me your wish.”

Sam was shaking again beside him, but it definitely wasn’t from the cold this time.  Dean’s worry meter was so high, he was afraid he would stroke out.  “Where will you go?  If I – you just vanish?”  Sam asked, and his voice only shook a little.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been bored for a while.  Some of my kind, demigods, lesser gods, the like – they’ve made a home in the stars. I’ve been thinking about joining them.”

“Stars aren’t – they are made of hydrogen, helium – they aren’t made of – “Sam was stuttering his protest.

“And maybe you aren’t as smart as you think you are, cause let me tell you sugar – I’d be the biggest and brightest star out there. I’ll stay up there for a while, maybe a century, maybe two.  Rally all the other gods and then – well I think it’s way past time heaven got good and shook up.”  Perseus chuckled as he stood.  “Time is wasting Sam, and if you won’t make the deal, I’ll go chat with little Jimmy.  He’s been here a few times.  He’s scared to give voice to what he really wants, maybe even more scared than you, but he’s so sad, so tired of seeing his father sad, I think he’s about to give in.  So, what do you think will happen when his mother shows back up again?  Do you think it will go smooth, like it does in little Jimmy’s dreams?  Or do you think it will be a living nightmare that no one in the home will ever be able to wake up from? So sweet Sam shall I summon Jimmy and we find out?”

“No, no I will – “Sam stepped closer, and Dean stepped with him.  He tapped Sam’s arm so Sam would look at him.

They had faced monsters, witches, demons – and Sam was acting like this was the scariest thing he had ever encountered, and that alone scared Dean.  “Whatever it is, whatever you want Sammy, just wish it   We will figure it out after, it will all work out I promise.”

He hoped he sounded convincing.

Sam stared at him a long moment, then turned back to Perseus.  “Do all the wishes end badly?”

Perseus smiled, all bright teeth and barely concealed glee.  “What fun would that be?  The whole reason I do this is to see what happens next. I just give them their greatest want, and then – the fates take over.  Sometimes it ends well, sometimes not, sometimes it makes almost no difference in their life.  Years ago, no centuries ago. Time just kind of - “Perseus waved his hand vaguely around his head. “There was a little girl who lived in a village and her greatest desire was to be able to fly.  Her people were highly superstitious so I thought – there is no way this ends well for this little girl but she was brave enough to rise about her nature, brave enough to ask so I granted it.  That girl, she was smart.  She flew when everyone was asleep, or when everyone was busy with hunting or gathering or preparing for this celebration, or that one.  Her people loved to celebrate.  She saved her people more than once, finding a food source when food was scarce, finding water when the rains didn’t come.   Her people began to believe she was a soothsayer and she was respected by them.  She never married, never had children, but I have rarely seen someone suffused with such joy, every time she flew it was like poetry in motion.  When it came her time to die, she flew to a secluded place on a mountain, filled with wildflowers and she laid her head down and went to her final rest.  So, Sam Winchester, it does not always end badly. It ends the way the fates decree, but only the most brave are willing to take the chance.   Sam, you are in the room where everyone gets what they want– so I will ask one more time - what is you want?”

Dean looked at Sam, he had never seen Sam look so nervous.  He wanted to wrap his arms around his brother, wanted to tell him everything was okay.  Sam bit his lower lip and Dean found himself tracking the movement, suddenly very glad he wasn’t the one who had to voice aloud his greatest wish.  Sam would never look at him the same way if he did.

As if could hear Dean’s thoughts echoing, Sam looked at Dean and then back at Perseus who was tapping the floor in front of him, in a sign that time was running out.  “Can I tell just you?”

“It’s not me that has what you most want.”  Perseus answered.  He stood up.  “It’s time Sam, or I get the little boy.  Which one of his parents do you think will tear the other one up first?”

“And if I say this, you go away.  You don’t make this deal with anyone else.”  Sam asked, stepping so close to the riser Perseus was standing on that they could have touched.  Dean didn’t like it, not one bit, and fought against the desire to pull Sam back.

“Well, if I ever get my fine ass into heaven, maybe I’ll play let’s-make-a-deal with the angels.”  Perseus stated.  “I can’t be good all my life, how boring that would be.”

Sam was still wavering, and Dean stepped closer.  “Sam?”  He asked.  Sam turned toward him and Dean’s heart lurched – Sam was crying, silent tears streaking down his face. Dean reached up to wipe one of them away.  “Sam, it’s okay, whatever it is, it’s okay. Sweetheart, tell us, tell me – what do you want?”

Sam’s eyes widened and Dean cursed himself, he hadn’t meant for the endearment to come out – that one word revealed too much but Sam turned toward him, and Sam’s hands were gentle on his face.  “If I tell you this, everything changes.  If I tell you this, you may hate me forever.  But if you are willing to take that chance – ask me again.”

There was no way, nothing that Sam cold do that could make Dan hate Sam forever, of that Dean was sure of.  Yes, he could get angry at Sam, He could do stupid, cruel, childish things to get back at Sam when Sam hurt him.  But to hate this boy – this walking embodiment of everything Dean cared for – it would never happen.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Dean asked again, feeling Sam’s hands stroke his cheek as his hand went to Sam’s waist.

“Kiss me.”  Sam responded.  “That’s it – that’s my – just - kiss me.”

There was a peal of laughter from in front of them and the gold room sparked brighter than Dean could have imagine possible, so bright he had to close his eyes.  Sam pressed against him as the world seem to glitter and then shatter around them, the floor even shaking below their feet.

And then there was silence and stillness – and cold.

Dean opened his eyes.  They were back by the lake, sleeping bag at their feet

Even though it was still night, there seemed to be a bright light shining on them.  Dean looked up at the same time Sam did.  Directly overhead there was the biggest star Dean had ever seen.

“Show off.”  Dean murmured and beside him, Sam gave a snort of a laugh.

Snow was beginning to fall again; the trees were lightly frosted with white.  Dean’s attention turned back to Sam when Sam cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry about – “Sam looked down at the ground, shivering once more with something besides cold.  “We don’t ever have to think about it again right?  It was just a hunt and hey we kind of won so – “

Dean grabbed both of Sam’s hands in his, they were frozen and he found his fingers rubbing them, wanting to soothe. 

It was impossible to believe, but maybe, perhaps – hopefully, they had been wanting the same thing all this time and neither one of them had been capable of asking for it.  And now Sam had.

If Sam could be brave, so could Dean.

“I think you asked something of me.”  Dean said, pulling Sam’s hands and placing them on his waist.  Once they were planted, Dean reached up to cup Sam’s face and pull It down toward him.   Tentatively, slowly so that Sam could jerk away if he wanted, Dean stood slightly on tiptoe and let his mouth graze Sam’s.  When Sam’s only reaction was to sigh and close his eyes, Dean pressed his lips harder, holding on to Sam’s cheeks as Sam opened his mouth, letting him in.  For a few seconds more, the kiss was tentative, light but then something took over them both, something primal, a need that had been building up for so many years and Dean’s tongue was in Sam’s mouth and his hands were in Sam’s hair and Sam was pressing against him, whining low in his throat.  Sam’s hands were everywhere, on his hips, his back, his neck and Dean was both drowning and soaring.  Sam kept making keening sounds, low and deep in his throat and Dean realized he was getting hard, just from kissing and that just wanted him to claim Sam’s mouth, claim every inch of Sam, even more.

It was several moments later, and the realization that Sam’s hands on his neck were cold, before Dean broke away. Dean looked at his brother, his long brown hair trying to hide his eyes, his lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushed, and Dean had never seen anything or anyone so beautiful in his entire life.

“Where- where do we go from here?”  Sam asked, breathless and fingers trembling, where they were now resting on Dean’s shoulder.

“This is a choose-your-own-adventure type of story.”  Dean said to him.  If possible, the star above their head shone even brighter, pulsing with light.  “We go wherever we want to go.”

Sam was acting unusually shy for him, looking down at Dean through his eyelashes.  They way Sam was biting his lower lips was doing things to Dean’s insides.  “Where do you want to go?” 

Dean pulled Sam’s hands down, pulled them into his.  Sam’s shoulders were now covered in snow, his hair was almost totally white.  Snow swirled around them, beside them the lake glittered but all he could see was Sam – Sam’s eyes, which looked – dare he say? – hopeful.

“Well I would like to go back to the bunker where it is warm and then I want to take your clothes off, one item at a time, until I’ve unwrapped all that glorious skin of yours. Then want to explore every inch of your body with my fingers and my tongue and my teeth until you are a writing mess beneath me and then – well, I guess we will find out.”

Sam’s pupils were blown, and his breath was coming in faster and Dean had a burning sense of pride that he had affected his brother to such a degree.  He had also affected himself and had to reach down and make an adjustment on his suddenly tight pants.

Yeah- “Sam breathed, leaning back over and pressing his lips quickly to Dean’s before releasing Dean and going to get his backpack.  “Let’s do that.”

Fifteen minutes later they were traveling down the road, the lights of the town receding in the background.  One of Dean’s hands was on the stirring wheel and the other was holding Sam’s and it took a few seconds for Dean to realize what this unfamiliar feeling was that was gripping his heart.

Hope.  Love.  Joy.  Desire. 

And as Dean took a quick glance at Sam who was looking at him with those shining eyes, that right now were a mixture of blue and green and beautiful as always, he knew that even though they were still Winchesters with crappy luck and even crappier futures, even though Sam still had the trials and they still had battles to fight.  That tomorrow was not ensured for either of them.  He knew that all that didn’t matter.

Because right now he was traveling in a car with a beautiful boy who loved him and that was all that mattered, that was everything.

 


End file.
